


Sans-Sectumsempra

by SatyrSyd37



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Feels, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, Sectumsempra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 16:20:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1716947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SatyrSyd37/pseuds/SatyrSyd37
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What might have happened in the bathroom that night if Harry hadn't used sectumsempra.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sans-Sectumsempra

**Author's Note:**

> Ah! This is my first fic hope you like it!
> 
> Feel free to hit me up on [my tumblr](http://satyrsyd37.tumblr.com/)
> 
> None of these characters belong to me, all rights to J.K. Rowling, etc., etc.

It hadn’t worked. _It hadn’t worked._

The apple slipped from Draco’s shaking hands, landing with a thunk on the floor.

It hadn’t worked.

His chest bloomed with a sob, and he shoved his hand over his mouth and bit down to stop the tears. Draco stood staring at the massive Cabinet looming over him. He felt weak in the knees, and took a few shaky steps back, bumping into the table behind him and throwing out his other hand to steady himself. Hot tears were forming in his eyes. But he couldn't cry here, not in the presence of that horrible thing, not in the wake of the task he had to do. Several big, ragged breaths later, he fled the room, no longer able to face the broken Cabinet.

 

Draco tore through the hallway, sprinting to his only refuge: the boy’s bathroom. He could only hope that everyone else was already at dinner; he couldn’t even begin to fathom what he would do to any classmate who saw him like this.

Draco threw the door open and flung himself on a sink. He tried to steady his breath, taking in big, deep breaths, trying to stifle his sobs, but he couldn’t hold back. His shoulders quivering, clutching both sides of the sink, he ducked his head and let the hot tears spill over his face. _He’s going to kill me_ , he thought. The image of the bite in the apple was still fresh in his mind. One jagged imperfection on an otherwise perfect sphere. But that wasn’t good enough. _He’s going to kill them all. All because I couldn’t get the stupid Vanishing Cabinet to work…_ but he didn’t have to get it to work. Not if he killed the man himself.

“Oh, Draco…” the high-pitched voice interrupted his thoughts. Draco looked up in the mirror to see Moaning Myrtle, who stood – or rather floated – behind Draco. She ran her shadow of a hand down his arm. Draco broke down in a fresh batch of tears.

“Don’t cry, love…” whispered Myrtle. This wasn’t the first time he’d broken down here, nor the first time Myrtle had seen him like this.

“Oh Draco, it’ll be all right…it’s all right, just let it out…” And Draco did. When Myrtle had first started coming, Draco would hex her or yell foul things to get her to leave, but she was persistent, and Draco had no choice but to accept her comfort. Plus, being dead, she understood his fear of death more than anyone else.

The tears flowed faster now. The initial shock of failure had just about faded, and the revelation of hopelessness was setting in. What else could he do? There was nothing he hadn’t done. He had tried everything on that damn Cabinet, every spell, every charm, every magical remedy from the obscurest theories of arithmancy to the darkest defensive curses. He even tried to repair the Cabinet the Muggle way. But nothing worked – nothing. He, Draco Malfoy, had failed.

*“Don’t…don’t…tell me what’s wrong…I can help you…”* Myrtle mumbled.

*“No one can help me,”* Draco shook. Myrtle had told him this every time. She said she could help him, but if she only knew… Help him? No one could help him.

*“I can’t do it…I can’t…It won’t work…”* he tucked his head in towards his chest, imagining the inevitable, *“… and unless I do it soon…he says he’ll kill me…”* His body racked with sobs again.

Something felt off. He felt another’s presence. Blinking tears out of his eyes, Draco looked up – there was someone standing behind him.

Dark messy hair. Awkward round glasses. Vacant expression.

Potter.

Of course it was Potter. Of course it was the blasted Boy-Who-Bloody-Lived who caught Draco at his lowest point. Of course it was his stupid crush.

But even his petty crush on Potter couldn’t stop his anger now. Draco had wondered earlier what he would do if someone saw him like this. He guessed he would find out.

Infuriated, he yanked his wand out of his pocket and wheeled around towards Potter. With a swish of his wrist, Draco shot a hex flying at him, barely missing. A lamp shattered as Potter jumped out of the way. Potter flicked his wand and Draco instinctively blocked it. He raised his wand –

*“No! No! Stop it! Stop! STOP!”* Myrtle cried.

But Draco cast the spell, causing a bin right behind Potter to explode. Potter threw another curse at him that Draco dodged, letting it backfire and smash a container filled with water. Draco head a cry that must’ve been Myrtle as water flooded the bathroom, causing Potter to slip and fall.

That stupid, stupid bastard with those stupid green eyes that Draco has come to love and hate with such a fiery passion. Stupid Potter with all the attention and love and stupid Potter who thought he could do anything. Stupid Potter with his stupid hair and stupid attractive face –

“Cruci – ”

“EXPELLIARMUS!”

 

Draco’s wand flew from his grip before he could finish the curse. He watched with bleary eyes as it tumbled through the air and landed in Potter’s outstretched hand. Both boys faced each other, panting, but otherwise unmoving. Silence stretched between them, as rage tore through Draco. Myrtle floated stock still in between them both, sneaking glance at the boys in turn. This boy, this scrawny, idiotic git who Draco was so cruelly attracted to just stole his wand.

Draco stormed across the room, water sloshing at his feet. Potter was still on the ground as Draco seized him by his collar and yanked him up, throwing him against the wall. He shoved his elbow against Potter’s collarbone and slammed his other hand on the wall. Potter deftly held both his and Draco’s wand out of his reach with his right hand.

A yell penetrated the air, and Draco could see Moaning Myrtle flee out of the corner of his vision. He didn’t dare take his eyes off of Potter, who didn’t dare take his eyes off of Draco either.

Draco scowled, standing up straight and pointing his chin in the air. He put on the most menacing mask he could with his face streaked with tears. Draco glared at The Boy Who Lived, trying to rip his soul to pieces with the fierceness of his gaze, but Potter only stared, almost sardonic with his impassivity. “Give me my wand,” Draco demanded as calmly as he could, while putting as much vile into his voice as he could muster. No, Draco would not steal his own wand back, that bastard would give it to Draco himself. Even like this, Draco would not stoop so low as to fight like a Muggle.

Potter looked at him with an infuriatingly curious look on his face. He still breathed heavily from their duel, and held the wands steadily above him. Draco breathed heavily, too, and he could feel the tear streaks that dried on his cheeks and his hair that had fallen on his forehead. Potter didn’t look intimidated. His gorgeous – _gorgeous?_ – stupid green eyes stared right into Draco’s cold steel ones, and suddenly Draco realized he did not have the upper hand here. Potter was the one with two wands. The Chosen One’s gaze slipped from Draco’s eyes a little lower, down to his…lips?

Then Draco realized how close they were. He could feel Potter’s warm breath and his boney collarbone and his thighs pressed up against his own, and his face was so close that if Draco leaned in closer, just an inch or two –

Hastily he stepped back. This was Potter, his worst enemy. Any thought towards Potter that wasn’t distinct hatred would get Draco killed…

And suddenly everything came back to him.

Draco’s knees gave beneath him as he stumbled back to the sink, gracelessly sloshing through the ankle-deep layer of water on the tile, resuming his position of gripping the sides of the sink until his knuckles turned white. He felt tears rise up again.

He could think every lewd and dirty thing about Potter he liked, because it didn’t matter anyway. He was dead, his mother was dead, his father was dead. He wondered if the Dark Lord would have Vince and Greg killed too, since they had helped him – or failed to help him. He wouldn’t put it above Him…

The water sloshed again and Draco felt a hand rest on his shoulder as Draco tried to sob away his sorrows. He didn’t care what Potter thought of him. It didn’t matter any more. Nothing did.

He heard Potter’s voice ask, “Did you mean what you said? That Voldemort – ” Draco shuddered at the name “ – would kill you?”

Draco stopped shaking enough to give a definitive nod. Potter placed his other hand on Draco’s other shoulder, but Draco pulled away and faced Potter.

He wiped the tears away from his face and bluntly asked, “Why do you care?” Because, really, why did he? Potter hated him. They were enemies. Rightfully so, too, since they practically fought on two opposite sides of a war.

Of course, Draco wished they were anything but enemies. If they were on the same side, Draco could’ve gained Potter’s affection with his good looks and Slytherin tricks a long time ago. But that wasn’t the case. He wouldn’t have Potter so easily.

Draco went on, “You hate me. You think I’m evil. You’ve been following me around – ” Potter blushed. Draco wanted to curse himself for thinking how attractive Potter looked blushing. “ – because you think I’m doing something terrible, something someone evil would do.”

“That’s not why – ” Potter began, then corrected himself, “That’s not the only reason why I’ve been following around everywhere.” Then Potter blushed again, realizing what he was implying.

Draco smirked and asked, “Well then, what was the other reason?” Potter looked mortified, to Draco’s delight. His crush on Potter didn’t prevent Draco from enjoying tormenting him.

“I – You…you’re…er…I just – never mind. It doesn’t matter.” Potter’s face was as red as a beet. He expressly avoided Draco’s gaze, apparently becoming intrigued with a spot on the wall to his right. Draco was about to question Potter further when the other boy switched the subject.

“You said you thought I was following you because I think you’re evil,” he commented steadily. “And are you? Are you evil?” he asked, staring pointedly into Draco’s eyes, boring into his soul. He lowered his eyes while Potter stared on. “Malfoy, has Voldemort ordered you to kill Dumbledore?”

Draco felt his eyes widen in surprise. He knew. _He knew._ The bastard. How did he know? Potter wasn’t that smart…perhaps it was Granger. It didn’t matter anyways – Potter knew.

He couldn’t be allowed to know. Draco stood speechless as Potter glared at him. But it wasn’t a glare filled with malice, rather with… sympathy?

“Let me help you,” Potter began, “We can protect you. You don’t have to follow his orders, you don’t have to die – ”

“SHUT UP!” Draco burst. “Just shut up! You have no idea what you’re blabbing about, Potter! You don’t understand what it’s like, to have a task that’s so ridiculous…I’m too – too young! But he knows that…” Draco lowered his gaze and ran his hand through his hair. “You don’t know what it’s like to have to do an impossible task, a task that…that if you fail, everyone you care about will die. I don’t have a choice, Potter! You don’t understand...”

A pregnant silence filled the room. And then he heard Potter chuckle. Chuckle?

Draco realized the flaw in his logic. Potter said, “Actually I know exactly what you’re talking about. I do understand. Every single day, since the day I found out who I was, I have understood that.” Potter lowered his gaze finally, shaking his head to himself. “They’re all depending on me, to be stronger, to be smarter, to be better than Voldemort. My friends, the Order, Dumbledore. They all expect me to be something great, to save them…because if I don’t, I’ll lose everything. My friends will die...But I’m just me. I’m just Harry. Nothing special, really.”

It was Draco’s turn to laugh. “You? Nothing special? Don’t you realize who you are? Chosen One, Savior of us all, Merlin’s ass. That doesn’t matter – you’ve already done so many things. At the ministry? The tournament in fourth year? The basilisk in second? Though I’m still not quite sure I believe that one…” Potter grinned, just a little. “Of course you’re special. Harry Potter’s done some crazy things, and that makes him special. You don’t need to impress them any more. I think you’ve done enough to earn their respect. Anyone in the right mind would respect you now. Everyone loves you already. And if they want more from you, screw them. You’re only sixteen.” Draco ended with a grin, flashing his teethed and curling his lips.

Potter grinned back giddily and blurted, “You should smile more.”

 

Draco, flustered, blushed.  _You should smile more._ What the hell? What was Potter playing at?

Potter looked as it he wished he could take that back. His eyes were wide and his face was flushed as he stumbled over his words, “…I mean…well…I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile. Well you have smirked, but…er…” Draco found himself reddening under the other boy’s gaze. Potter liked his smile. Draco really didn't smile a lot, not when Potter was around, he realized. Unless he was mocking him.

“I…er…thank you, Malfoy. No one ever really looks at it from my perspective,” Potter said, rubbing his neck, staring at a random spot on the wall.

“No. That’s why we all fight each other instead of talking. No one ever looks at it from anyone’s perspective but their own.”

Potter took a moment to realize what Draco was implying. “I’m sorry for...for thinking…I bet you aren’t actually that bad, are you? I bet you were forced to have this kind of life. Being in league with him wasn’t what you wanted, was it?”

Draco sighed. Of course Potter knew, of course he understood. He was Harry Potter, kindest and most understanding wizard in England. “You might as well ask.”

“Ask what?”

“You might as well ask if I wanted to be a Death Eater.”

Potter looked at him with intensity as Draco rolled up his damp sleeve. He shouldn’t be doing this. Really, this is a _very bad_ idea, thought Draco. But he felt as though he had to. He had to show Potter the truth; he couldn’t hide it anymore, he had kept it secret from practically everyone – someone else had to know.

The black ink that stained his forearm felt ugly and embarrassing as Potter’s gaze washed over it. Potter put the two wands he was holding in the pocket of his robes, and took Draco’s hand in his own, then and put his other hand under Draco’s forearm. It gave Draco chills. He hated that Potter’s delicate touch could have such an effect on him.

“Did you want this?” he asked with hesitant curiosity.

“I thought I did, at first. I thought I wanted to be like them. They were all so powerful, so commanding of respect. I wanted that power. But not like this. The Dark Lord forced me to get it over the summer when he gave me this task. I know it’s because Father failed. He’s punishing Father by making me kill…to…to kill…oh you know.”

Draco wasn’t sure why he had spilled everything to Potter. Maybe it was because he was done keeping secrets. And maybe it was because he felt like Potter could keep his secrets. Or maybe it was because Potter’s gaze was a spell in itself and it penetrated his soul and made him want to spill all his secrets – it wouldn’t have surprised Draco one bit.

He went on, “But I regret it now. I regret ever wanting it. I’ve done terrible things, Potter…you know,” Potter looked at him with such sadness it made Draco’s heart ache. “I - I want to change! I don’t want the Dark Lord to win,” and for the first time Draco realized this was true. He didn’t want the Dark Lord to win. Draco didn’t think he ever had. “They’re mad! All of them…but I can’t change. Not after I’ve done all of this. And not with my life and my parent’s on the line. You won’t be able to protect us Potter. Not now, not ever.”

Potter dropped his gaze, but his hands stayed on Draco’s marked arm, much to Draco’s delight. “I’m sorry,” was all he said. “I didn’t realize…I thought you – I thought that you wanted this. I thought you were like them.”

“Maybe if I was more like them, I wouldn’t be where I am now.” Draco smiled regretfully.

Harry looked up, hurt. Draco felt weirdly sad, like he had disappointed Harry. “But you’re better than them,” Harry whispered. “You aren’t a killer.”

A wave of emotion hit Draco. No one had ever told him that. Not in all these years did anyone believe Draco was anything but a killer. Draco hadn’t even thought it himself. Everyone had believed that Draco was evil. But he wasn’t – and he himself had just begun to realize that. Harry sounded like he had known it awhile. Draco realized he could never kill Dumbledore himself. He had had no choice but to fix the Cabinet. And Harry had given him a new idea to try…

Harry. Draco realized Harry couldn’t walk out of this bathroom knowing everything Draco had told him. They would both be killed. Well, they were both likely to be killed anyway, but Draco could prolong his own death. Draco could repress these memories if the Dark Lord explored his mind, but Harry probably wasn't nearly as skilled as Draco at Occlumency. The Dark Lord could see straight into Harry’s memories, and he couldn’t risk Him seeing this.

“Give me my wand, Harry. Please,” Draco asked in his most sincere voice, stepping a little closer to Harry. Draco wondered when he had become Harry, not Potter.

Now they stood almost nose to nose. Draco could feel a strong pull towards Harry then. Something he had never really felt before, even after all of his crushing. Draco wondered if Harry felt it, too.

Harry removed his hands from Draco’s arm. He felt the absence of heat on his arm and almost pulled Harry's hands back. Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out Draco’s wand, placing it carefully in his outstretched hand.

Harry won’t remember anything after this, Draco thought. And with Harry standing so close, his body heat, his breath, his eyes enticing Draco – there was no way Draco wasn’t going to seize this opportunity.

Draco leaned in, closing the gap between them, and pressed his lips onto Harry’s. Draco was terrified – he could feel Harry start to pull away – but then to his surprise he leaned in, accepting Draco’s hesitant kiss. Warmth spread through Draco as Harry’s arms wrapped around Draco’s back, winding up into his hair. Draco pushed closer to Harry, his own arms wrapping around the Chosen One’s slim waist. Draco opened his mouth with a moan, exploring the Harry’s mouth, and was meet with clashing teeth and tongue. Harry sucked gently on Draco’s lower lip, while Draco bit back tears. He melted into Harry, letting all of his troubles slip away and loosing himself in the moment.

They stood like that, kissing passionately in each other’s arms, until they had to come up for air. Draco pulled back, leaning his forehead against Harry’s, and he saw Harry staring back at him, his red and swollen lips forming the beginning of a mischievous smile. Draco grinned back somberly.

“I can help you. We can make this work,” Harry assured.

If Draco wasn’t dreading what was about to happen, he would have laughed at the absurdity. But he could only raise one hand to cup Harry’s face, while his other hand held his wand just below Harry’s gaze.

Draco was very good at Memory Charms, what with Katie Bell and Slughorn and all. So he felt confident as he pointed his wand at Harry and whispered, “Obliviate.”

**Author's Note:**

> * These lines of dialogue are directly taken from Harry Potter and the Halfblood Prince


End file.
